


butterfly

by starlies



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/F, eirika-centric, mostly her friendship with l'arachel i think, written for sacred stones fan anthology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 15:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12171207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlies/pseuds/starlies
Summary: "If we merely turn our eyes away, we surrender our world to atrocity. And so I must fight.”A re-write (?) of Ruled by Madness, because Eirika deserves the world.





	butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!!! Long time no... fanfic... sweats... (sorry if you're following mirrors I have NO IDEA WHEN I'M COMING BACK TO THAT... school is Hella)
> 
> Anyways! I wrote this back in April for a Sacred Stones fan anthology, and now I finally get to post it! Thank you so much for letting me be featured in the anthology! Fic writers rarely get this sort of opportunity ;u; It was incredible to see my work in print!
> 
> I haven't really looked at this fic in months so... I'm not sure what to say about it. I replayed fe8 right before I wrote it and one thing that stuck out to me was, when they retake Renais, how come everyone cheers for Ephraim and not Eirika? So this fic was born. One day I want to add more (it was originally going to be overt eirika/l'arachel aHA) but I'm not sure when... that will be... ah... ^^;
> 
> Thank you for reading!

_“We’re going home, Eirika.”_

And what a way to return.

Eirika wandered through the halls of Castle Renais, refamiliarizing herself with its stone walls and carpeted corridors. After months of journeying around the continent – to Frelia, south to Grado and back north again, across the mountains and through the desert of Jehanna – finally returning to her homeland felt odd, somehow. There was a different sort of spirit to Renais now, something deeper than the unpleasant discoveries they’d made on the surface. 

“Goodness, returning home to find villains infesting your palace?” L’arachel huffed. “It’s an injustice, I would say.”

Eirika sighed, her tense expression relaxing and evening out. She liked the way L’arachel spoke. As a learned lady, she could speak Renaissian well, albeit with a Raust accent. The rolling romantic sounds of the second language didn’t come naturally to her, and the rich, deeper intonation of the east beat warmly beneath her words.

She couldn’t help but wonder how much more verbose the heiress was in her native tongue than Renaissian, but didn’t mind either way. She liked having L’arachel accompany her as they checked the halls for Orson’s soldiers. “I agree,” she said. “This isn’t how things are supposed to be.”

“But Lady Eirika!” L’arachel took her hand in her own before she could continue, the silk of her troubadour’s gloves pressing against the princess’ leather. “As far as our circumstances are from the ideal, this is why we have been driven here! To vanquish the land of demons and fiends, we will fight! And in the end, we will find ourselves with a far more pleasant world.”

Such was the overly dramatic propensity of her friend. L’arachel couldn’t make so much as a proposition for tonight’s dinner without turning it into a production.

But her jade eyes shone with optimism, and Eirika smiled.

A heartbeat more, and the smile fell away again as Eirika looked past her friend before her, tugged away by the roseate scent of memory.

L’arachel’s brows pressed together as she peered into Eirika’s expression. “Are you okay? You haven’t fallen ill, have you?”

“This is… we’ve wound up where the royal quarters are. This is where Ephraim and I lived,” Her eyes glanced around the familiar hall, the familiar doors, the familiar tapestries. It was here in the southern corner of the palace where their personal quarters resided, set apart as private from the libraries and state rooms and ballrooms. “Er, _live_ ,” she corrected.

“Oh!” her friend exclaimed, and turned around to take in the wing for herself. “Well… if we are here, and Orson’s soldiers are not, why not take a break and look around? To reminisce?”

“L’arachel…”

“We ought to ensure the soldiers haven’t wreaked havoc on your belongings, after all.”

Eirika managed a smirk, lips parting enough to reveal a hint of teeth. Seth and Ephraim needn’t find out they’d gotten sidetracked.

One tentative step was all it took to pull her back into routine as she led her friend to her room. Opening the door, Eirika revealed to L’arachel the sanctuary she’d left behind months prior.

She was silent as she wandered into the room. Was it truly the same place? Was it truly still here?

It was left untouched, it seemed: still standing was her indigo-draped four-poster, her desk and chair, her tea table. The dishes hadn’t even been put away from the fateful morning when Seth interrupted her breakfast of milk tea and pastries, word of invasion on his lips.

Her attention was drawn up to the opposite side of the room. Yellow sunlight shone in through glass panes on the doors to the veranda, the only source of illumination for the vacant bedchamber. Once upon a time, walking through them would take her to the rose garden that surrounded the entire wing. It had been her haven for reading books and writing letters in the embrace of warm sun and ambrosial aromas, but such a time was but fuzzy memories now.

She needn’t look to know it wasn’t fortunate enough to have survived the Gradan army. War, she learned, did not stop for flowers.

L’arachel had been surprisingly quiet for the past minute, either observing Eirika’s home or observing Eirika herself. She was the first to break the silence nonetheless. “Eirika? Are you alright?”

“Hm? Yes. I’m fine.”

“You’ve seemed pale since we arrived at Renais. Are you certain there’s nothing amiss?”

Eirika sighed, as she found herself all too often. “Amiss” might be the understatement of the century in explaining her distance, but she still couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Save for the obvious issues at hand, at least.

She stepped over to her vanity, running her finger through the thin layer of dust that settled around her hairbrush and perfume and jewelry box. There was a war. That was one thing. The war was because Gradan forces wanted to destroy the Sacred Stones, which was another. And the Gradans wanted to destroy the Stones because the Dark Stone manipulated them, and the Dark Stone was in the possession of Lyon.

She stopped tracing lines in the dust when she caught a lavender hair ribbon. It was a pretty little thing, a luxury she hadn’t indulged herself in for the longest time: taking the care to fix her hair in baubles and silk. Carefully, she picked up the ribbon and held it between her fingers.

Lyon. Her friend, her brother’s friend… his involvement in the crisis at hand was a million issues at once, a million more things she wasn’t sure she understood yet.

“Ah! Eirika, this is too adorable!”

Oh. Her thoughts had taken her a bit too far from the present; she’d nearly forgotten L’arachel was with her.

She turned her head to find Rausten’s princess standing by her dresser, a small wooden sword in her hand. “Was this yours? How nice! I remember when I was but a little one, taking books from my uncle’s library and pretending to be a sage…”

“It was Ephraim’s,” Eirika replied simply, only a wisp of a smile on her lips.

“Oh? Yet you keep it in your room still?”

“A pleasant memory, I suppose.” The princess stepped away from her place at the vanity to join her and took the toy in her hands. She ran her thumb over the wooden hilt. Why had she never bothered to do anything with it? She and her brother played together often when they were younger, and it was only natural for each other’s toys to be found in the other’s room.

A vestige of such a time… that was what she held in her hands.

And yet.

It was long before war swept over the land, long before she learned to fight, long before she met Lyon. Ephraim was the only one she knew. But Ephraim was also friends with Kyle and Forde and even little Franz, and Eirika wasn’t allowed to play knights and dragons with them in the courtyard. She might hurt herself, for heavens’ sake.

She was a princess, after all.

_How perfectly ironic_ , she thought. She’d hurt herself anyway; here she stood with a toy sword in her hand and a real one on her belt.

She hurt enough for an entire nation. Waiting so long to learn to fight… it hadn’t made much of a difference.

“Ah, the way you and your brother act, I would think the two of you had been sparring partners forever,” L’arachel observed. “When did you take up the sword? You’re a remarkably graceful fighter, Eirika – a natural, in fact!”

“It was a year ago, maybe a little more.” She’d made the decision on her own when rumors of brewing conflict arose from the south. Renais, the land of artisans and poets and bards, wouldn’t stand much of a chance in prolonged strife. To be able to defend herself wasn’t a terrible idea – she had relied on the protection of her brother and knights for too long. “I asked Ephraim to teach me,” she added.

“Not Sir Seth? I thought he was your retainer, after all.”

“Hmph, Seth? He…” He was a man of stoic pride, someone a bit too devoted to his position to treat Eirika as comrade-in-arms. She could tell by the way he looked at her that he saw her as a princess more than anything else. “He’s a bit too concerned with my safety. He was, anyway, though I believe it still bothers him that I choose to fight for myself.”

Thus she was regulated to checking halls with her healer friend rather than join the main assault on the main hall. Ephraim would be the one to dispatch Orson. This she knew, this she trusted.

And then what?

An empty throne?

“Eirika!”

The princess whipped her head to face the threshold.

“Tana? What happened?”

Tana swallowed, catching her breath. If the disheveled navy hair falling over her cheeks was any indication, she’d run all the way over here. “The main assault. Ephraim is rallying against Orson’s last stand.”

Eirika spared no remarks as she, Tana, and L’arachel fled the southern wing.

* * *

 

She took the scene in piece by piece, in rapid succession, when she arrived. Even now, the images were vivid in her mind’s eye.

Ephraim dueling with a turncoat soldier –

Seth attacking Orson, one versus the other.

Seth’s lance knocked from his hand, flying away and clattering against the ground.

Orson lunging –

A shout.

Seth falling, clutching his chest. Blood stained his hand, spreading –

And it was a reflex.

It was a reflex to intervene before the final blow. But when it was she who faced down her former knight, not a glimmer of life in his murky eyes… Eirika couldn’t breathe.

Orson did not utter a word when her rapier thrust under his breastplate. Not a retaliation. Not a plea.

The blade pierced through his chest.

And she exhaled.

She still had yet to fall asleep, sitting up in bed in a room submerged in the inky darkness of a new moon. Rest was impossible to find when visions of sanguine wounds and grey corpses danced in her mind.

She should have asked him, should have asked if he could see the land falling apart around them, should have asked why he turned his back to her at Renvall. Why did he choose this? How did he find himself here?

But it was Eirika who killed him. She had already removed her sword; the atrocity was complete, and mercy was no longer an option. He was lost from the moment she saw his back disappear into the dull mist of Grado.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and pressed her face against them, the silk of her nightgown cool against her soft cheeks.

It was very, very easy to cry.

How were people capable of this? It wasn’t simply the betrayal, but more than that.

_Necromancy._

She’d never heard the word before because there was no need. Such horror had no place in her world – it was unnatural and unheard of, the stuff of scary stories Ephraim threatened to tell her when they were young. And yet it was real. She saw it with her own eyes, a woman who passed away months ago…

This was what Lyon had done?

Was this what he wanted?

It had driven Orson _mad,_ this power Lyon tapped into. She could remember what he was like before all this, before his wife passed away and before the war began. The man they fought to regain their nation… he wasn’t the same person at all, but someone twisted beyond humanity, beyond saving.

Of all the army, Seth was the one who knew him best, as a fellow knight.

She caught him before returning to her chambers that evening, after L’arachel healed his wounds and they ventured to the Hall of Kings to retrieve the Sacred Twins. Sieglinde was hers now. Though the sword was new, it didn’t feel foreign in her grip. The power that coursed beneath it felt natural somehow, as if merely an amplification of her own energy.

He turned to her, the exhaustion of a long day set in his auburn eyes. “Lady Eirika? Was there something you needed?”

“I’d like to ask the same of you, Seth,” she replied. “I just wanted to see that you were doing well, after all that happened.”

“I see…” His lips drew thin, and he brushed a hand over the wound on his chest. “I… I failed you, Lady Eirika. I’m sorry. I swore to protect you, and –”

“You chose to take on Orson by yourself.”

Seth didn’t respond immediately, taken at least slightly aback by Eirika’s interruption.

“Why?”

He sighed. “Before this, Orson was a knight of Renais, and I his general. When he turned on his oath… it was my duty, Lady Eirika.”

Another way of saying _I didn’t want you to have to dispatch your own men._

“Yet it was I who… who ended the fight,” the princess said, choking back the sob in her throat. She didn’t want to cry in front of him now. “I didn’t think about it. Perhaps because we have been at war for so long now, perhaps because you were in danger, I didn’t hesitate to attack him.”

“You shouldn’t have had to. I should have been able to protect you, and you shouldn’t have had to put my life before the needs of the nation.”

“Seth, I respect your devotion. I always have. But saving you does not mean I have abandoned my fealty to Renais.”

Perhaps he was simply accustomed to saving her, or at least feeling as though he had. For so long he fought on while wounded, afflicted by the trauma he’d taken from Valter in that fateful battle at the dawn of war. For her sake, for Renais’ sake, he persevered. The respect she held for that was profound.

But there was a rising feeling that came from within as she spoke to him, a confidence and capacity to stand on her own. She didn’t need to be saved anymore.

“You told me that leading the nation during times of war demanded sacrifice, that it meant I would have to be willing to send my men to die fighting – but how could I simply let you die for me? I couldn’t that happen, not if there was something I could do to stop it. That is why I joined this fight. So I could protect myself, and so I could protect my people.”

Seth’s eyes slid to the floor, then up at Eirika, bittersweetness written on his lips. “My lady.”

“Yes?”

“That was what I’ve come to realize, after seeing your courageous grace on the battlefield; it grows with you as you take on the crown and its responsibilities. Maybe it hurt my pride, being protected by the one I was sworn to protect. But now I know that to me, you are more than my liege to serve. You are a queen, Lady Eirika.”

* * *

 

The army rose to resume their travels as soon as dawn’s light seeped into the castle. As per L’arachel’s suggestion, they would soon travel to Rausten, where the remaining Stone resided.

Ephraim and Innes, of course, wanted to leave yesterday. But the consensus shared by most of their company was that a brief interlude was in order, even if the battles waged put the castle in a state of disrepair. There was a long road ahead of them, after all. The next night’s rest was not promised.

A part of her felt guilty, leaving the palace in the hands of the few knights and servants who survived. Soon, they would return, she promised. Soon, the agony of Fado’s death and Orson’s misrule would be put at peace.

She wasn’t ready to leave immediately after breakfast. Not without saying goodbye.

L’arachel agreed to accompany her as she snuck away from the departure preparations. She trusted her brother would understand. Ephraim admitted to being hasty in racing off to Grado, chasing adventure and glory while Eirika waited in Renais with little more than her hopes of peace. He felt guilty for abandoning the people, for failing as their imminent king. Even when they received him cheers and smiles and open arms, his regret was still visible in his dark blue eyes.

So if Eirika at least made a gesture towards their homeland and their promise to restore it, she doubted Ephraim would chastise her for lingering in the palace at the cost of hitting the road. As much as he wanted to put an end to the terror engulfing Magvel, he didn’t want to leave Renais in further want, either.

Luckily, his twin sister was easily swayed by such matters of the heart.

“Have you ever visited Rausten before, Lady Eirika?” asked L’arachel as the two walked the palace halls. The interior was eerily silent. Compared to the ruckus of the previous day, every little sound was noticeable: the click of boots against stone floor, the soft swish of L’arachel’s capelet, the distant hum of their companions outside. Eirika listened for them. Noise was a steady reminder of life, and life was what her country needed most of all. 

The princess shook her head. “I haven’t the chance yet, unfortunately.”

“Ah! Then your visit will be especially significant! I promise you’ll be treated as an honored guest in my quarters – first impressions are everything. When this is all over, you’ll have to come again, of course, so we can do everything we missed in our quest for the Stone. I won’t have my closest friend visit the beautiful Rausten without being treated to its cuisine and festivals and traditions. You’ll love it, I’m certain!”

“I don’t doubt that in the least,” Eirika replied with a smile. Absent-mindedly, she reached for the ruby on her chest, brushing her thumb over its glossy face. It was her first token of Raust culture and their friendship, a precious gift she at first wasn’t sure she could accept.

A dull ache murmured in her heart. The jewel was both a gift as well as a promise to L’arachel that she would invite her to Renais one day… the heiress’ first visit to Eirika’s home had now come and gone, and on less than desirable terms. She’d have to have her come back one day, when her homeland was healed.

Whenever that was.

They reached the main hall, no longer home to celebration and ceremony, to a father’s final wish, to battle and tyranny. Only desolation. An empty throne sat upon Renais, and the two noble-born orphans had yet to ascend it.

Eirika’s eyes scanned over the room. Now that the dust had cleared, her new reality settled in. It was a heavy burden to bear. A single palace room was depressing, but she knew it was hardly representative of the ruin the country faced, the razed villages and decimated fields and broken families. For so long she had been only vaguely aware of the scope of her nation and title, but just as the war reminded Ephraim of his duty to his home, she too realized what she meant to Renais.

The new feeling she held about coming back to the palace was not because a traitorous king sat on the throne, or because the capital was in disrepair, or because half the knights had fallen, but something more. The difference wasn’t so much a shift in Renais as much as it was perhaps a change within herself. It felt as though she was emerging from a cocoon, taking a new place in the world as something greater than what she once was.

When she returned to the throne, it was not as Renais’ princess, but as its _queen._

For so long she had relied on her brother for protection, to act as the heir apparent. He was her closest friend, after all. They’d always been together. But even though his gallant crusade in Grado unnerved her, acting without him opened her eyes to how they had grown. How she had grown. While he was drawn to glory, she was drawn closer to home. She would be the one to protect her country, to reclaim and restore it to a health greater than it had ever known.

But at the same time, she also came to realize how much more there was beyond the world she knew. Renais was but a piece of an intricate tapestry of lives and dreams and emotions. She was not alone in the quest for peace. There were others with her, like the bright and bubbly troubadour who stood with her in the dusty light of the palace, whose fine green curls framed her cheeks like a flower’s tendrils.

She felt the warmth of a faint smile blooming on her lips. “L’arachel, thank you for coming with me.”

“It’s no problem, Lady Eirika!” the troubadour replied as she turned to her. “It is truly my pleasure. For heaven’s sake, with the daemons and fiends across Magvel, I would hate to see a friend go anywhere alone!”

Eirika chuckled. “It’s more than that,” she said. “I know that I can depend on you, that together we will recover Rausten’s stone and restore order. There is a long road ahead. But with all of us sharing the same goal, I believe we will find a solution.”

“Of course. We can’t stop now, can we?”

“No. Because I think… I think at one time, I would have shied away from strife in fear of the bloodshed it implicated. But now I know. If we merely turn our eyes away, we surrender our world to atrocity. And so I must fight.”

Her hand drifted to the hilt of the divine blade resting in her belt. She would fight. She would fight to save Lyon, to save Renais, to save Magvel.

And so the journey would continue.


End file.
